


Open Your Eyes

by Superfanboy



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, M/M, Superhusbands, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-09-17
Updated: 2012-09-17
Packaged: 2017-11-14 10:33:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/514309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Superfanboy/pseuds/Superfanboy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>High School AU. Working on it... slowly. Planning on including more characters, but I'm not promising anything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It was hard not to watch Tony Stark as he moved through the workshop. He acted as if he owned the place. Someday, he probably would. Here, or somewhere better. Professor Fury had told the class that Tony was the most talented student he’d ever seen, though that was only after he had been sent to the principal’s office for the umpteenth time. 

Talented though he may be, Tony either couldn’t or wouldn’t control his mouth. He had a snappy comeback for almost anything and absolutely no respect for authority. Most of the teachers couldn’t handle him. Fury, Steve thought privately, was one of the few exceptions. He had a handle on the boy’s attitude, and in turn Tony grudgingly respected him for it. 

Steve was impressed by the both of them. 

He had never been able to understand what goes where. He could draw blueprints for hours, but when it came to actually understanding which piece meant what, he was hopeless. He had hundreds of sketches of car engines and motorcycles and robots that he had made up, but putting something like that together was impossible for him. 

So when Fury announced that the final project for the year would be open ended but requiring moving parts, Steve knew he had little hope of actually passing the class. 

It was supposed to be lunchtime, but Steve decided to hang around the art room instead. He was planning to finish up a couple of sketches that he had been working on and maybe clean up the photo lab as a favor to Ms. Hill. As he stared down at the picture of a robotic steampunk suit that he had concocted wondering what else he should add, he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. 

“Aren’t you going to eat?” Tony asked, staring at the drawing. 

“I’ll just have a snack before gym. It’ll be fine.” 

“Did you draw that? Well, actually I know you drew that, it’s just that’s what people usually say. I’ve seen you drawing in class. That’s a really interesting structure. I think with a little tweaking it’s actually doable.” 

Steve looked up at him, confused. “Wait, what?”

“Doable, like, I could make it. Like, an actual machine instead of a drawing. Would you want to? For our final project?” 

“Would I want to make this?”

“Yeah,” Tony replied impatiently, pulling an extra stool to the table and sitting down across from Steve. 

“I couldn’t even start to…”

“I would just need you to draw it up from different angles and maybe a few deconstructed sketches. You would be doing, like, 12 percent of the work. I know you’re not good at this stuff, don’t you have like the worst grade in the class?”

Steve blushed. “Probably not the worst grade.” 

“Yeah, I think you d—“ he started before noticing Steve’s expression “Well, it doesn’t matter. Just, it’s basically a free ride. And we could hang out in my workshop while I’m working on it and it would be fun.” 

“Um, well, yeah. Sure, I guess. When do you want to start?” 

“How about today? I mean, I know it’s short notice, but I’m free and I know that you don’t have football practice on Fridays.”

“Um, well, sure. Yeah I guess so. Shouldn’t you clear it with Fury first, though?” 

“Trust me, Fury will not be a problem. Just, here, here’s my address just show up around 6:00? Will getting there be a problem?” 

“No, I’ve got my bike…” Steve said cautiously. He wasn’t quite sure how he had managed to find himself in this situation. It didn’t bother him, but he didn’t usually go out of his way to socialize with his peers. He only had a few friends, and they weren’t the sort of friends who called on the weekends wanting to hang out. Even if they were, Steve probably still would have refused.

“Great! Great, well I’ll see you then.” Tony said before leaving Steve alone in the art room to consider everything that had happened. He still had a good fifteen minutes before the second half of his day began. He decided to use the time to start cleaning up the photo lab. He might as well wait for Tony’s input to continue with the sketches anyway. 

Steve, as usual, was the last one to leave the classroom after the bell rang. He didn’t have to rush. His apartment was only a few blocks away so there was no bus to catch and no reason to hurry. He knew he’d have plenty of time to fix dinner for his mother before his meeting with Tony. He spent his extra time staring into his locker deciding which books to take home and thinking about which tests he would have to study for. Finally, he began walking down the hall toward the giant double doors and the bike racks beyond. 

“Steve, wait up,” a familiar voice called behind him. Steve turned, already knowing whom he would find. Clint Barton raced down the hall in his direction. Clint always seemed to be racing somewhere. He ran from class to class, he ran as much as he could during gym, and he ran track during the fall and winter seasons. In the spring, of course, he was the star pitcher on the school’s baseball team. His aim was perfect. The ball always landed exactly where he intended almost every time. Unfortunately, the rest of the team wasn’t quite as skilled. They’d never quite managed to make it to state. 

“Hey Clint, what’s up?” 

“I heard that you’ve got plans with that Stark kid tonight.”

“How did you even find out about that?”

“I have my ways. I just wanted to give you the heads up; he can really be trouble if you’re not careful. Don’t get too involved.” 

“Wait, what do you mean?” Steve’s stomach knotted and his hand drifted up to the base of his neck. Nervous habits die hard, and this conversation was quickly starting to make him nervous. 

“I just mean I know people. You know that. And there have been some nasty rumors about Anthony Stark flying around lately. The least of which is that he’s a bit of a boozer. He’s not exactly unpopular, but he makes people uncomfortable, you know? It’s like he’s too smart.” 

“Are you sure they’re not just jealous?” 

“Just be careful, okay Cap?” Clint finished with a dark look in Steve’s direction. He used the nickname popular among the more athletic guys around school. Cap, as in “Captain of the football team.” Steve didn’t mind, usually. This time, however, the term of endearment compounded his worry. 

“Thanks for the heads up, Clint. I appreciate it.” And he meant it. At least he knew the guys were watching out for him, even if it made a situation he was already nervous about infinitely more complicated. 

Steve’s bike was right where he had left it, locked to the end of the rack. He hopped on and pedaled quickly toward home.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On Steve's family life. Very AU-ified, I know. Sorry about thatttt. More StevexTony next chapter.

As soon as he unlocked the door to apartment 415, he knew something was wrong. The smell of burning lingered in the air covering the cigarette stench that he was used to. He dropped his backpack and ran through the darkened hallway toward his mother’s bedroom. 

“Mom? Is everything okay?” he called, uncertainly.

“Steve?” Her voice sounded hoarse. “I’m in the kitchen, please help me.” As Steve rounded the corner, he saw her crouching on the floor and groping for something. She was in her best blue dress with her long blonde hair smartly braided. She had even managed to apply a little lipstick, blush, and eyeshadow, though it was all smudged now. It was clear that she had been crying. Smoke was leaking out of the sides of the oven. 

“Oh, mom,” he said, cringing as he helped her up. “Come on, let’s get you into this chair. It’ll be alright.” 

“I lost my earring,” she said, wiping at her face. “I was just looking for it.”

“I’ll get it, it’s got to be around here somewhere, right?” Steve saw it almost immediately, and with one graceful movement he swooped down to pick it up. With the first obstacle cleared in record time, he hurried to the stove, carefully opening the worn metal door. 

Smoke leaked out, but it didn’t seem like anything was on fire. With only a thin rag between his fingers and the glass dish, his hand burned a little as he transferred the crisped mess into the sink. He turned the stove off, cooled his hand under the faucet, and finally sat down across from his mother. 

“So, what’s all of this about, mom? The makeup and the, ah, casserole? You know I can take care of whatever you need. And why didn’t you call Mrs. White? She could have helped you find your earring. She would have been happy to.” Mrs. White was their neighbor. She had to be about 60 years old and Steve always suspected she felt sorry for them. Whenever he had football practice or a game she would bring something over and spend some time with his mother. It took at least a little of the pressure off of him.

“I know,” she choked, “I just wanted you to come home and feel normal for once. I wanted to be able to put your dinner on the table. I wanted to look like a normal mother. I know it’s not easy for you. I know.” 

For years, they had struggled to make it work. Steve’s father had left when he was eight without a word as to why. It wasn’t much of a mystery, though. Sarah Rogers tried her hardest, but she had been sick almost all of her life. Some days were better than others, but after she had lost her sight it was hard for her to do anything by herself. 

It was a miracle that Steve had survived at all. He wasn’t supposed to, but Sarah insisted that she’d carry him to term if it killed her. It almost did. She was the strongest person Steve had ever met and he would do anything to keep her safe. 

“Mom, you’re perfect. Don’t worry it’s fine. We’re okay. We’re making it just fine. I’m so happy. And here, I can even save the casserole. You did a really good job with it.” He lied, hoping it would comfort her. She straightened; trying to regain whatever dignity she had lost in the affair.

Steve scraped the burnt edges of the food down the drain. It wasn’t that far gone. He set it on the counter to cool while he helped his mother to her bedroom. As she changed out of the formal dress and stockings, Steve filled the bathtub. This wasn’t the first time something like this had happened, and he knew exactly how to handle it. 

It took about an hour before they sat together at the kitchen table to eat. Steve didn’t want to leave her, but he was torn. It was already almost 5:00 and he had made a commitment. He should have asked for Tony’s phone number, just in case. He shouldn’t have agreed at all. It was a horrible call, and Steve didn’t make a lot of those. He had been responsible for his mother since 4th grade, he should have known better.

“Hey, mom,” he started uncertainly. “I have this big project coming up and one of the guys invited me over to his house to work on it tonight. If you need me it’s absolutely no problem to cancel, really it’s not. Just…” he let his sentence trail off. 

“Oh Steve, of course. I’m fine now. We’re okay. I was just planning on reading for the rest of the night anyway. A new book came in the mail today. I’m anxious to start it.”

While that may have been an exaggeration, it made Steve feel at least a little better. Before this incident, she had been doing okay. Her nightmares hadn’t been nearly as intense or as frequent and the new medication her doctor had started her on seemed to help manage her other symptoms quite a bit. He was still hesitant to leave.

“You’ll call me if you need me, no matter what right?” 

“You know I’m not irresponsible, Steve. Just foolish sometimes.” 

He smiled, putting a hand on her shoulder. “I love you so much mom.”

“I know, honey.” 

After he finished the dishes, he packed a bag with his drawing supplies and a few textbooks for good measure. He checked on his mother one last time before heading out the door. He remembered that it was a straight shot until he passed the high school and began pedaling in that direction.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve learns more about Tony. Something somewhat surprising happens. Maybe I think. This one's a lot longer than the first two, sorry about that! Kind of messing with the chapter switching here, so drop me a line if it doesn't work.

Steve searched his pockets for the crumpled piece of paper he had used to scrawl Tony’s address and some simple directions he had found on the net. He thought he remembered that he was supposed to take a left on Ironwood Drive. That couldn’t be right, though. Ironwood was, apparently, a gated community full of the biggest houses Steve had ever seen. It seemed to be worlds away from his tiny apartment, though it had only taken about fifteen minutes to get there. He cursed himself again for not asking for Tony’s phone number.

Finally finding his written directions, he confirmed that he was supposed to turn into Ironwood. Unfortunately, there was a guardhouse and everything. He had no idea what to do. He sat staring off into the neighborhood until he finally decided just to go ahead and ask the guard. 

“I’m supposed to meet my friend at, um, this address?” he offered the written notes to the man. The guard looked critically at Steve and before glancing down at the address.

“Are you sure you’re not being punked, kid? This is the Stark estate. They don’t get a lot of guests up there. And certainly not…” he had the courtesy not to finish the sentence. Steve figured it had something to do with his clothes or his Walmart bike or maybe even his shaggy hair. He began to blush. 

“Yeah! Yeah, I know Tony, Tony Stark he’s a friend from school.”

“Alright, kid, I’ll check to see if he sent in a request. If he forgot you’re gonna have to call him before you get through.” After a few seconds of checking on his complicated looking computer system, he apparently found what he was looking for. “Name and ID, please?” 

“Steve Rogers,” Steve said, fishing in his wallet for his student ID. “Will this work?” 

“Yep, that’s okay. You’re all set. Just go straight to the end of the block. It’s going to be on the left. He’ll buzz you in when you get there, I’m sure.” 

“Thank you sir, I appreciate it.” The guard shot him a half smile and opened the gate so he could pass. Steve pedaled quickly now, fueled in part by irritation. Why hadn’t Tony warned him? He felt tricked, though he didn’t really know why. It wasn’t any of his business where Tony lived, and maybe Tony was so used to living in a place like this it didn’t strike him as an important detail to mention. 

When Steve saw the house, however, all such thoughts slipped away. In fact, all thoughts of any kind sort of disappeared temporarily. It wasn’t just a mansion; it was the biggest house he had ever seen. It was bigger even than the other houses on the block, and many of them were three stories tall. 

He was absolutely dumbstruck. Why wasn’t this information all over the school? Certainly someone must know about this. This wasn’t the kind of thing that just slipped by unnoticed. This was… unbelievable. 

“Are you just going to stand there gaping or are you going to come in?” 

“S-sorry,” Steve said, looking for the source of Tony’s voice. Finally he realized that it had come from an intercom posted by the gate. Tony probably hadn’t heard his apology, but Steve figured it would be all right. The brushed black iron gates began to swing forward allowing Steve to walk his bike up the long driveway. By the time he reached the front steps, Tony had emerged from the house.

“Okay, well, I guess I owe you an apology. I didn’t warn you. I should have. Maybe. I guess. So, sorry. Anyway, this is where I live. I’ll get Jarvis to put your bike in the back so you can leave it here. Follow me?” 

“Who is Jarvis?” 

“Our butler. Questions later, let’s just get down to the basement and then I’ll explain. Sorry again.” 

Steve left his bike as instructed and followed Tony inside. There was an enormous chandelier hanging from the ceiling. It looked like a cliché you’d find in some movie about rich people. The whole house did. It was all marble floors and giant doors and Persian rugs. 

Steve completely lost track of which turns they’d taken on the way to the basement, but after a few minutes they were downstairs and Steve was, once again, in awe.

The workshop had an upgraded version of every tool he’d seen in the school’s machinery shop and then loads that he didn’t recognize. In one corner there was a line of expensive looking antique cars, many of which had their hoods popped and tools strewn nearby. There was a giant computer display unlike any Steve had ever seen and what seemed like acres of counter space. Not to mention the thick wooden drafting table with built in light box. 

Two robotic arms stood at the ready by one of the desks. Steve wondered if Tony had built them himself or if they were just something else that could be bought by the kind of people who had this sort of money. The last interesting thing Steve noted about the room was the living space in the corner. There was a well loved leather couch with matching coffee table, a flat screen TV, a fridge, and a small bookcase filled with mismatched sets of instructional volumes and the occasional novel or dictionary. 

“Tony, what is all of this? Who are you?”

“You know my name. Think about it for a second.” 

“You mean Anthony?” 

“I mean Stark.” 

“There have to be a hundred thousand Starks in New York alone, Tony, you can’t expect-“ and suddenly Steve got it. Stark, as in Stark industries. “Oh,” was all he could think to say. 

“Yeah. I’m Howard Stark’s son. No one knows. You’re the only one I could trust to bring here.” 

“You don’t even know me, why would you trust me with this?” 

“You’re the captain of the football team. You could easily be the most popular guy in school and yet you don’t even have a Facebook. You’re quiet and introverted and you do your best whenever you can. You’re honest to the core. We might not spend much time together, Steve, but I do know you.” 

Perhaps he should have thought it odd, but Tony was so comfortable with what he was saying that it relaxed Steve. It wasn’t even close to enough, though. Tony might trust him, but he had no reason to trust Tony. Especially when he’d been lying to literally everyone for years. 

“But, Tony, if you’re Howard Stark’s son, if you have all of this, if you’re everything you say you are, why do you go to public school? Why do you try so hard to pretend when you don’t have to?”

“My father tried to send me to boarding school, but I raised some serious hell back there. I fucking hated it. I wanted this. I wanted to feel normal. Dad relented when I promised I’d take college courses at night and enroll in MIT’s summer program. They keep me out of the news as much as possible, but I know it won’t be long before I have to start owning up to my lot in life. For now, I’m just having fun.” 

“Wow, that’s… I don’t even know what to say, Tony. I’m sorry.” 

“It’s cool, I’m used to it. Just don’t tell anyone, okay?” 

“Of course.” 

“Are you ready to get to work?” 

“Sure,” Steve said, pulling his sketchbook from his backpack. “Just tell me what you want me to do.” 

Tony and Steve sat down together at the drafting table. Tony explained what changes needed to be made and which angles he wanted to see. Steve had the sneaking suspicion that Tony didn’t really need him for any of this. After all, he had to have some ability to draw plans if he’d already been building machines for years. 

In any case, Steve drew up the pictures as requested while Tony watched. It felt nice to have company. Perhaps, Steve thought, they were both lonelier than they pretended to be. 

Tony got up from time to time just to walk around the workroom. He would pick up a tool and tinker with some half finished project while chattering mindlessly about whatever it was before wandering back to check up on Steve’s progress.

“Hey, Tony?” A thought had suddenly occurred to him. How much did Clint know? Was the house and the Stark name the reason for the questions earlier? 

“Yep?” 

“I was just wondering… Do you know Clint Barton?”

“That older guy who pitches for the baseball team?” 

“Wait, what do you mean older?”

“Yeah, Clint is 19. I think he had to repeat his freshman year. No, I don’t know him. I’ve heard of him, though. Why do you ask?” 

“Oh, I didn’t know that. Well it’s just; he kind of had a talk with me kind of warning me to watch my back around you. Not in a bad way, he’s just protective of me I guess.” Steve hoped that it wouldn’t come off as rude. The last thing he needed was for Tony to hold some sort of grudge against Clint. Unexpectedly, however, Tony began to laugh.

“Well, he’s pretty good at keeping a secret then.” 

“What do you mean?”

“I mean he must know who I am. And he hasn’t told a soul. What a guy.” 

“How would he know? Did you tell him?” 

“No, but, well, he certainly does have some connections if you know what I mean.” 

“No, Tony,” Steve said, feeling like he was being talked down to. He couldn’t hide his irritation. “I don’t know what you mean.” 

“Alright, alright. Well, I might have some information on Barton and Principal Coulson being something of an item.”


End file.
